


Lachesism Has Long Since Been Out The Window

by FandomTrash



Series: gross percico cousin incest au that literally nobody asked for [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkward Crush, Beginnings, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Cousin Incest, Drabble, First Love, Fluff, I'm not comfortable with goddamn thirteen year olds doing the frick frack okay?, Implied/Referenced Incest, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, No Underage Sex, PERCY HAS FUCKIN BLUE BRACES OKAY, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 20:45:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12043941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomTrash/pseuds/FandomTrash
Summary: I promised I'd never fall in love with him, because itswrongon so many unspeakable levels. But, the time on my phone's screen says4 AMand we're laughing so goddamn hard that my chest aches, and I'm overwhelmed with joy I haven't felt since before my sister left, and I know I'm screwed.His green eyes are brimmed with something that runs deeper than the weird sort of love you give to your cousin, and I wonder if he feels the same way.





	Lachesism Has Long Since Been Out The Window

**Author's Note:**

> Lachesism:  
> the desire to be struck by disaster—to survive a plane crash, to lose everything in a fire, to plunge over a waterfall—which would put a kink in the smooth arc of your life, and forge it into something hardened and flexible and sharp, not just a stiff prefabricated beam that barely covers the gap between one end of your life and the other.

Percy sits across from me on the couch, staring up at the ceiling contemplatively, looking almost sad in the pale blue glow of his old television. All the lights are off in his apartment, since it's two-days-overdue movie night (meaning it's Saturday, almost Sunday.) The blue popcorn bowl sits empty on the coffee table, his _Finding Nemo_ comforter strewn all over the couch; tangled around out legs, half over his lap, half under me. It's a mess, really, but we've just finished the last episode of _Johnny Test_ – that's it, that's what we were watching – and my cousin is just seemingly counting the popcorn dents in the ceiling.

I watch him, head cocked: I wish I knew what he was thinking. He looks so sad, lost, almost. It's always weird watching him look so upset, because I don't ever really know what to do. Most of the time, what I do is wrong anyway, so why try?

''Do you ever think you're, like, super special to someone?” Percy asks, jaw tensing, eyebrows furrowed as his gaze moves to his hands. They pick at the loose seams of his comforter, but seem to do little in soothing him. “But, then, y'know, you see them act like that with someone else,” He looks up to me, green eyes pale and washed out by the television's light. He's distraught I recognize. I nod, feeling the familiar ache pang faintly in my chest. “And you're just kinda like -”

“ _Oh. Alright._ ”

The words hang in the air, dejected and miserable. Sighing, I nod, “A lot. Why?” Percy shrugs, dropping his gaze back to the comforter, as if it would give him more than simply comfort. Answers, maybe. He sighs softly, shoulders slumping a little. _Oh._ I know that sigh; “Perce, is this about that girl you like?” He winces at the question, and I know I've hit the nail. Quietly, he whispers _yes_ , before falling into my lap.

God I hate her.

Though, logistically speaking, I have no right to.

My hand finds his hair, systematically carding through his hair, gently untangling knots as I go. He turns, pressing his face to my stomach, arms around my midriff. I turn to lay against the arm of the couch, laying with my cousin groaning and complaining against my shirt. I find myself chuckling, much to his confused frustration, as he pouts at me, “Why are you laughing at me?” He whines. Shaking my head, I just smile down at him, “I just never thought you'd get this upset over a girl.”

He furrows his eyebrows, pouting further, “What's that s'posed to mean?” I can only marvel at him for a moment: he has such pretty eye, they could get a girl to drop her pants with just one sultry look. They could get me to do anything with just one pleading glance. Then I clear my throat, looking away from him for a moment. “It's just surprising, s'all. Somebody like you letting little things get to you.” He smiles at that, turning his head a little.

“I guess you're right, Neeks.” I scrunch my nose at the name, but it quickly dissipates as Percy sits up with a chuckle, “You think there's more fish in the sea?” Nodding, I smile. I don't let it get to me that I'm not one of those fish. He pauses, staring at me for a moment; face unreadable. It's scary how he's mastered that look: he's only fourteen. Then again, I guess that's an exaggeration: I'm thirteen and have mastered deadpan (it's the awkward few months where I've caught up with him age-wise. Just gotta wait it out 'til August, and there'll be the natural two-year age difference again.)

Percy clears his throat, looking away from me for a moment. I follow his gaze to the window: bright city lights on a backdrop of indigo, pollution tinting it to match the blue-gray of the carpet out in the hall of the apartment complex. Eight stories above everything really enables your view. When I turn back to my cousin, he's inexplicably red-faced. For what reason, I don't know. It upsets me that the reason probably isn't me.

I cover it up with a yawn, standing and stretching. Scratching my cheek, I hum, before wandering into the kitchen with the popcorn bowl, “Want some more popcorn or nah?” I call. There's a delay before he answers, and even then, it's subdued. “Uh – ye....yeah, yeah. Buttered, please.” Nodding, the action of pouring kernels into the bowl is easy enough. I wish we could just put them in the pot on the stove and throw some butter in that way – it always tastes better – but apparently we're not reliable with the stove yet. Which sucks, needless to say.

Throwing the bowl in to the microwave, I press in the numbers and lean against the counter. Percy leans against the back of the couch, arms crossed over the top as he watches me. Smiling, I roll my shoulders under his gaze. It's that particularly unnerving one, where it feels like he's digging under your skin and trying to match puzzle pieces. As far as I'm aware, he hasn't figured me out yet. God forbid he ever does. Contrarily, butterflies flutter in my stomach.

_God, what is wrong with me_

He stands, stretching in a way similar to what I had done. Except, he's wearing one of my old _Marilyn Manson_ shirts that's a little too small and rucks up his stomach and stretches over his chest. Goddamn him and his athletic swimmer build. Stupid faint formation of a sixpack, ridiculous v-line that disappears under the waistline of his sweatpants. Stupid me for wanting to drool all over it. _Forgive me father, for I have sinned. Am sinning. Will sin. Maybe._

My cousin tugs his shirt back down, smacking his lips like he does when he's just woken from a doze. I've always found that endearing, then find myself jealous at the fact he doesn't get morning breath. Goddamn minty fresh stupid mouthwash. He makes his way over, smiling contentedly. It's silent: popping the only accompanying sound in the silence between us. But I enjoy it, revel in the fact that we're close enough to simply share the quiet.

Beside me I where he comes to stand, leaning with his back against the counter with me, shoulder to almost-shoulder. Collarbones. That looks about right, yeah. I still haven't hit my growth-spurt yet. Percy looks down at me, fond, though his smile is nowhere in sight. Cocking my head, I throw him a confused look. Shaking his head, he flexes his hand before putting an arm around my shoulder, “I miss you, y'know.”

“What do you mean? I'm right here.” I chuckle, though hesitantly. I'm pulled into a spontaneous hug, firm arms around me; one around my shoulders, the other around my back, his chin resting on my head. I listen to his steady pulse, closing my eyes to the sensation of his breath in my hair. My arms wrap around him as best as I can, hands coming to rest on his shoulder blades, “I'm not going anywhere, either.” It reassures him, if only a little bit. His grip tightens.

A noncommittal hum vibrates in his chest, a gentle sound when it passes his teeth, “I know. You think I'm gonna let you go?” Shrugging, I let myself just relax into his touch. It's the stab of _what are you doing_ that makes me pull back a little. However, he just holds me to him, even as the microwave beeps.

“Do you want buttered popcorn or not, Perce?” He shrugs around me, and I feel his mouth move against my forehead, “It can wait a minute.” Apparently it can, as I feel my limbs just sink into his touch. My knees go weak, but my cousin just holds me so much tighter. I wonder what's going through his head, though I know he probably wont tell me. Huffing, he taps his fingers on my shoulder, “It's not fair,” He says. “What's not fair?” I ask.

Pulling back, Percy holds me at arm's length, scrutinizing me before falling lax. “Nothing,” Is his muttered response. The topic is quickly dropped in favor of me dishing out popcorn whilst he gets the butter from the fridge. A spoon is pressed into my hand, of which I use to scoop out a small spoonful of the butter he offers me. I let it slip into the bowl, before mixing the popcorn around a little; the butter's melting quickly. The smell is mouth-watering, despite it being cheap dollar-store popcorn.

I bite my lip when I feel his arms over my shoulders, forcing myself not to react to it. Percy's always been like this; a hands-on person, contact was just a must with him. It makes him comfortable, I guess, to know that if he touches somebody – their shoulder, or hand – they wont reject him. “Just nothing?” I inquire, blinking up at him. Nodding, he opens his mouth to the popcorn I hold between my fingers. There's a delighted, satisfied hum that comes from him, and I feel it through my back. Such a wonderful thing to feel. It's wrong that I feel contented by his satisfaction.

We make it back into the living-room, him collapsing onto the couch with the bowl resting on his stomach. Whilst he busies himself with flicking through old reruns on Netflix (a gift from his father before he left; my uncle pays for it every month,) I shuffle over to the window and sigh. New York is one of those cities that you get tired of after a while. In the winter, anyways. Gray skies, no sun, little warmth. But tonight, it's like no other. No stars, no moon; just clouds and late-night traffic and lights blinking and flickering as the clock counts to 2 AM.

“ _The Ren and Stimpy Show_ or _Pinky and the Brain?_ ” Percy asks from over the couch, voice muffled by his mouthful. I shrug, scratching my head, “They still air those? What about _Hey Arnold?_ ” He shrugs, and continues to flip through until he shakes his head, “Nada.” Huffing, I slink over the back of the couch to sit by his feet, “Gimme the rats, then.” He snorts, throwing unpopped kernels at me, “They're mice.” I furrow my eyebrows, “Fuck that. They're lab rats.”

Percy rolls his eyes, resting the bowl on the table in favor of opening his arms out to me, “Whatever. C'mere and enjoy manical lab rats with me.” How am I supposed to deny him? As guilty as I feel, I slump over to lay against him, hand clutching his shirt as his arms come around me. It's not like we'll go further, so there's no point in worrying over it. Or even thinking about it.

And that's how I ruin what would've been a nostalgic throwback for the next hour and a half.

* * *

Jesus tap dancing Christ, I love his laughter too much.

It's a resounding, boisterous sound that bounces off the walls in a cacophony of joy and delight. Throaty, head thrown back, teary-eyed and red-faced are all things that I find to suit my cousin very well. And just as I love his laughter, he loves these damned 90's cartoons too much, despite us not being alive for a few of them, too young to remember the rest. But I guess the 90's was the golden era for animation, before it became educational and censored for a more simple-minded audience. It's fun finding adult humor and dark themes in some of them.

Percy settles for a moment, pausing the episode of some old _Doug_ series, though I don't know which season or which episode anymore. He looks to me, eyes sparkling in the dimly lit living-room. One of his large hands rests on the small of my back, fingers dancing on the hem of my shirt – as if he wants to trail patterns onto my skin, but knows that he shouldn't. Though, it's not like I'd stop him.

That dopey smile still lingers on his mouth, teeth bared in a display of true childishness; he still has a slight gap between his teeth from where his braces even them out (blue, of course,) eyes half-lidded with either fatigue or dazedness, though I have a feeling it's a mixture of both. So prettily green, so handsomely growing into those strong features: high cheekbones, angular jaw, wide eyes. A to-be Adonis, is my guess.

His spare hand feels heavy on the back of my neck, thumb brushing the shorter tufts of hair on my nape: “Hey Nico,” He says, conversationally, though his voice lowers to a whisper. “Yeah, Percy?” I respond, unconsciously moving closer, too lost in his yes to notice, too entranced by his vibrancy to realize. “What would you do if -”

My cousin clears his throat, shaking his head, “Never mind.” I blink, emptiness settling in my gut as disappointment runs through my veins in a particular shade of blue. “Oh,” I mutter, thinking that I may, actually, know what he meant earlier in the night, “Alright.” If he notices how my tone falls, he doesn't show it, or even show me anything. He just looks to the side as he tries to think up a way to save the situation.

I move away – to which his eyes widen in what I would like to believe is panic, in a sick, twisted way; hands hovering just inches from me like he's torn between letting me back up or keeping me to him. God I'd like to know what he'd do if he pulled me back. Instead, his hands fall, motionless. With no intention of grabbing for me like I so irresistibly hoped for.

Sighing, I shift back over to my side of the couch. The room is dark, my phone says **03:27 AM** ,and I feel lonelier than ever, despite the company that looks guiltily at me from across the arm's length between us. I ignore it in favor of staring unseeingly at the television, “We gonna continue or nah?” I prompt. Percy obediently unpauses the episode, and the screen lurches back into action. So bright, so cheery, so utterly nothing alike the atmosphere beyond the colored pixels of a rundown, secondhand television we found at a Good Will one time.

Percy's gaze is forlorn, upset – with himself or with me, I have no clue. I wonder if he regrets cutting himself off. I wonder what he'd say if he hadn't.

 _What would you do if I got a girlfriend?_ Because he's asked me that before. I hadn't replied further than a shrug, throat tight with the idea of it being true. Turns out, he asked that because he had a crush on _Annabeth fucking Chase_.

 _What would you do if I just left one day, like Bianca did?_ Asked me that once, too. I refused to talk to him for two days, and threw my mom's antique vase at him when he came near me.

 _What would you do if one day, we just didn't wake up?_ That one was late, late at night, like tonight, but on a Tuesday in the middle of summer. He'd been upset over a recent sighting on the news of some girl's suicide. She jumped off of the Empire State Building; people still say that her blood remains stained on the concrete. Though, I've never been there, so I wouldn't know.

_What would you do if I kissed you?_

No. Stop. Nico, what are you doing, what are you thinking? Are you trying to make yourself feel bad, no, _worse_ about your predicament. Well, congrats, you succeeded.

I scowl, picking at the loose ends of the couch arm. Maybe if I pick enough of them, I'll just forget about it. Just get on with the evening, pretend none of it happened, feel happy again. If only. Percy cocks his head at me, trying to discern something, or figure something out, though if you want to know what, I have no idea.

“Nico?” He inquires. I hum, trying to seem nonchalant, but know I failed miserably when he shifts a little closer with the intention of comfort, but stopping just short of inches from me. “What did you think I was going to say?” What a cruel fucking question. Shrugging, I glance over to him, “I dunno. Why?” he gives me a long look, before shrugging back at me and settling beside me, “No reason. Just curious.”

Sighing, I slump against him. I may not be able to see his smile from this angle, but I can hear it in his voice, “Best cousin ever.” Chuckling, I pinch his thigh, “Look in the mirror.”

And I can just pretend it's what I want, for a little while, at least.

* * *

“P-Perce, oh god! S-Stop!” I cackle, squirming in his grasp. It's too early for this now, nearing **4 AM** and it's ridiculous that he chooses _now_ to tickle me. Straddling me, fingers wriggling along my sides as I gasp for air. In any other situation, I'd be blushing, but as is the case, I'm technically doing that already. Red from lack of oxygen, but the same thing. If it was any other situation, he'd have stolen my breath away anyways.

“Stop? Stop what, Nico? This?” For a brief moment he pauses, letting me regain my breath. And when I think he'll continue, he doesn't; much to my relief. Percy grins down at me, am infectious one at that, as I start to smile back up at him. “How dare you,” I pant. He chuckles, carefully pulling my shirt back down from where it had ridden up in the mess.

Shrugging above me, Percy leans closer, teasing edge to his voice, “I dare very much.” Snorting, I shove him off so I can sit up a little, “That doesn't make sense, you doof.” Percy hums, amused, as he sits beside me, “Oh? And pray tell, dear cousin, what does?” Ugh. The fact that he keeps saying cousin is enough for me to feel sick. I wish we weren't cousins. But then again, I still wouldn't do anything.

He pulls me to lay down on his lap, looking up at him through tired eyes. It's early, now. Far too early, no longer Saturday but indeed a frightfully early Sunday. His mom will be home in a few hours. But I quickly forget that as he leans closer to me, green eyes sparkling with mischief glazing over something I can't detect well enough to describe, “Nico,” He murmurs, almost tranced. I reach up and boop his nose, causing both of us to fall from our stupor. Percy guffaws loudly, melodically, “What the hell, dude?” I repeat my action, hissing, _boop boop_ through a grin.

Batting my hand away, he pulls me to...sit in his lap. Legs bracketing his hips, my hands come to rest uncertainly on his shoulders, “Percy?” I hate how my voice trembles, and I'll probably vomit if somebody gave me a mirror. But he just smiles serenely, like it's the best day on earth, hands coming up to cradle my face. I didn't notice how close our faces were until I could feel his breath on my face. “Tell me not to,” He whispers. The feeling is amplified by the tense atmosphere between us, room dark and filled with only hour sounds.

“Go on, tell me not to, Nico. Because if you don't, I am going to _fucking kiss you,_ god be damned.” I blink widely, mouth parting to say something – but nothing comes out. Percy stutters to breathe deeply, like he's trying to rationalize himself. My heart beats too fast in my chest, throat tight as I blink in astonishment. I've never felt so powerless in my life, and the surprising thing is that I _adore the feeling_. I'm only thirteen; aren't these emotions meant to wait until late teens, early twenties?

Percy grits his teeth, braces shining in the dim glow of the television next to us. He looks me straight in the eyes, almost desperate, as if – ironically – he is a drowning man, grasping for a lifeline. “This is wrong, this is so wrong,” he mutters, before blinking widely at me again, as if I can make sense of the situation, “I love you.” He says. And everything seems to freeze for long, empty minutes.

We were laughing so goddamn hard seconds ago. So hard that my stomach clenched painfully and my heart seized up as my lungs burned for air, laughing so much that I was tearing up. I promised myself I wouldn't fall for him; it's wrong on so many moral levels that it's simply out of the question. So I buried the feeling and continued to laugh, to enjoy his presence near me, just sharing the delight with him the best as I could. It was **4 AM** and it was probably the best few moments of my life all week; Percy had a habit of making everything better.

But now, it's **04:03 AM** and the laughter's dead, replaced with stunned silence as my heart scrambles to pump blood through my veins. Those green eyes bore into me, intense and desperate all at once, determination painted on his face, though uncertainty laced in his voice as he voiced those three words to me.

 _I love you_.

I blink again, breath still not coming to me, but the ability to see past the shock has returned to me. Those beautiful eyes, that dorky pair of braces on his slightly crooked teeth that bite his lip with ragged nerves. I look in those eyes, and see...maybe something more than the weird kind of love you give to your cousin.

“I mean -” Percy finally finds his voice, hands dropping to my shoulders – squeezing ever so tight, like he's afraid I'll push him away - “Not – not in the way that...not cousins.” He fumbles, eyes finally falling from mine. I feel a smile grace my face as air finally returns to my lungs. My face burns, my heart beats frantically, and hell thaws internally. I find one of his hands, squeeze them reassuringly, “Y-Yeah, yeah, Percy. I...not cousins, either.” I mutter.

The look he gives me is worth all of it, I find. Bright, hopeful, go-luck and happy all at once; like I'd given him something he loves. Maybe...maybe I have. Percy shoves our mouths together clumsily; it's wet and messy, because hey, thirteen and fourteen? Of course we're inexperienced, it's not like you can learn just by watching a couple romcoms or anything. But he grabs at me like I'll shove away at any second, and I love the way I can freely tangle my hand in his hair and run my tongue over his braces like I've – weirdly – always wanted to. It's as thrilling as I imagined.

Pulling back, he's grinning like the 4th of July, and I wonder if what we've done with come to bite in the ass one day. I decide I don't really care about that consequence: he's mine for now. Percy's eyes widen, dread filling his voice, “What if mom finds out?” I snort, slumping against him, “She won't,” I promise, “It'll be our little secret.” He looks down at me for a moment, before humming with approval.

He hugs me tight, burying his face in my hair, “Yeah,” He whispers, “I like that idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yup. Another one. Goddamn. Nico's thirteen, Percy's fourteen - one year age diff because of turning thirteen that January, whilst Percy's birthday will be around in a few months from the time this is based. ugh...i need to stop, I'm sorry, ignore this and go on with your days, people.


End file.
